Hell Hath No Fury
by princess34marth
Summary: The Basterds encounter a business partner, but will this fellow hunter join their mission, or destroy them on their path of vengeance? All is fair in love and war, but hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Rated M for Language and future content.
1. Chapter 1

Lt. Aldo Raine was irritated. He clawed his way out of the driver's seat of the Basterd's truck, and slammed the door hard. The rest of the men were in the back, restless. Lack of fighting Nazis was leading them to fighting amongst themselves. He glared back at his second in command for a moment, unable to catch the sergeant's gaze. The young Jew was itching to beat something to death, and yet the opportunity had not presented itself. Ever since they had started making their way towards Paris, the lack of soldiers was unnerving. Well, lack of Nazis wasn't exactly the problem; it was live ones they were looking for, and every road they traveled was littered with corpses.

His troops settled in the only inn in town, Aldo sent out Donny, Omar, and Smithson to gather information. It was approaching dusk, and was the best time for his men to move about. He wanted an answer to his boredom, and someone or something was knocking off Nazis faster than he was. And that just didn't sit well with the Apache.

Smithson Utvich walked up and down the streets a bit nervously, smiling at the pretty little French girls who batted their eyes at him. These girls obviously didn't care about the war, although it was all around them. The little town on the west side of Paris was untouched by bombs and the like, but its lack of amenities like new shoes, real butter, and the like was evidence. 'There sure are a lot of girls around here…' he thought to himself; pretty girls with thick make up and doused in perfume, skin-tight satin stretched against their bodies. Then he realized what he had walked into. Smithson's face burned bright red, and he looked for the nearest exit from this red light district. Before he could make his escape, one of the girls walked up to him

"Monsieur, you look American, and lost. Perhaps I could help you, oui?" she asked in a bird's voice. He looked at the other interested girls and stammered out, "Yes, oui, I need h-help."

Donny Donowitz walked into the small French pub, trying to formulate a way to talk to these people. He sat down at the bar and ordered a beer, and looked about. A much older man sat next to him, and Donny studied him as he waited for his drink. The old guy was reading a book, nursing a scotch…a book written in English! Donny nodded to the server and turned his attention to man.

"Hey, uh, Ing-laze?" he tried to say in his best French accent.

The older man squinted at him, shut his book and smiled, "Oui, I mean, yes, my good man. What can I do for you?" Donny grinned and began to prod him for gossip.

Omar was simply meandering down alleyways when he came across something unusual. It was a man sleeping in the street, and while he didn't look French, he certainly didn't look homeless. With a clean face and dark blond hair sticking out from under the uniform cap, he looked more Swiss if anything. Then Omar noticed the soldier's uniform; it was that of Nazi Captain, but this man looked much too young. He struggled with the decision of whether to get his fellow basterds or deal with this Kraut here and now. Seeing Donny walk out of a pub across the street, he motioned for him silently to come over. He hurried over quietly, and grinned when he saw the uniform. Donny didn't have his bat, but at this point he was willing to use his hands. Any good Nazi was a dead Nazi, and this one had only moments until it was good.

"Utvich!"

"S-Sir!"

"What in the name of Sam Hill are you doing?"

"S-Sir, I was gathering information!"

"In a whorehouse?"

Smithson's face flushed as he glanced at the giggling girls behind him, waving good-bye. The one who spoke English had provided him with a neat little tidbit of information, but it felt too gossipy to matter much.

"Lieutenant, sir, I gathered from them that there is a Nazi gone AWOL who is currently making it his prerogative to kill all Nazis in the area. He has come into this town a few times seeking food and ammunition, but other than that, he's stayed in the surrounding wooded areas. He was last seen in town earlier today."

Aldo ran a calloused hand through his hair, trying to make sense of this news. It sounded legit, and if it was true then this sharp shooter needed to join his crew. He'd been looking for a sniper for a while now, and this sounded like a great chance to obtain one. However, the fact that this chap was a Nazi still stood firm in his mind. He decided that he would seek out the soldier and feel his out, test the waters a bit.

"Lieutenant?" Smithson said meekly.

"What is it, Utvich?" barked the Apache.

"The Nazi, sir…they call him der Löwe…the Lion."

Donny saw his superior officer walking with Smithson back towards the inn where the rest of the men were staying. With a swat of his muscular arm, he sent Omar in their direction. Now the Lieutenant could practice some more, hone his torturous art.

As the other men closed in, Donny grinned and kicked the Nazi's heavy boot. The man's face was still, and Donny lifted his leg to kick him again with the blond's leg swung hard into the side of the Jew's knee. His legs buckled and he nearly fell hard, but Donowitz recovered.

"You fucking Kraut!" Donny hollered, cussing at the top of his lungs. The blond man paid him no mind and dodged his next blow, sliding behind him. The height difference was extreme, Donny towering over the slight man. The blond kicked him again in the backs of his knees and elbowed him in the back. Donny went to his knees and the Nazi whipped out the fiercest looking pistol the Bostonian had ever seen. The blond held it to his head as the rest of the Basterds blocked his escape from the tight alleyway.

The rest of the men put their hands on their guns, except for Aldo. He stood in the center, arrogant and looking quite American. Donny held his breath, furious that he had been put into such a submissive position. He could tell his captor was scared, though; his chest was heaving and his breathing ragged.

"You speak Anglash?" Aldo said civilly.

The man paused a bit before answering, as if trying to translate in his head. "Yes. Who are you?" he said a shaky, defensive voice. He had an accent that wasn't French or German. Donny, however, placed it right away.

"This fuck's Italian! He sounds just like the those damn Dagoes from back home," he said to Aldo. The man jabbed the barrel of the gun a little harder into Donny's skull, causing him to growl.

"Well, I might as well be askin' you the same question. You're holdin' a gun to my sergeant's head, but I'll bet we can outshoot you in about a New York minute, hotcakes." Aldo studied the man's face; there was something wrong with it.

"You are all Americans. You are the Basterds?" he said, his hand shaking the pistol just over Donny's hairline. The Jew looked down, thinking of a way to redeem himself, when he saw spots of blood on the ground. They weren't his, and they were fresh, which meant the Nazi, or Italian, or whatever he was, was wounded. Donny took his chance, dipping down between the man's legs before he could recover, and throwing his fist as hard as he possibly could into this blond's stomach.

He dropped the gun and fell to the ground, totally winded. Donny flexed his hand and noticed there was a smearing of blood on it from the blond. Aldo walked over and nudged him onto his back; he had black out.

"Damn little fucker, trying to make me a hostage," Donny sneered, antsy for another chance to hit him.

"Shut the hell up, Donowitz," Aldo barked, and Donny looked up at him incredulously. Aldo lightly kicked the man's cap, revealing shining blond hair and a surprisingly feminine face.

"Wait just a goddmamn second…" Omar whispered as Smithson jostled in front of him.

"It's a woman! Donny got taken down by a woman!" he yelped quietly, dodging a halfhearted punch from Donny.

"Well, just hold the fuckin' phone, boys," Aldo muttered as his fingers caught a thin chain from around the young woman's neck. Hooked on it was a small charm that bore the symbol of a lion on top of a family crest, and the word "Leone". "Donny, grab her and let's go back to base." Ignoring the young Jew's scowl, he turned to Smithson. "Looks like we found our lion."


	2. Chapter 2

The men's return had caused a bit of a stir with the bringing of the woman in uniform, but the Basterds calmed after Utvich passed them the story of their discovery. Wilhelm Wicki and Hugo Stiglitz had joined their leader in deciding what to do with the Lion in their base.

Aldo had frisked the woman without feeling, and was mildly surprised at what all he found. Roll after roll of ammo was pulled off of her person, along with a twin of the pistol she had used earlier. It was of Italian make, beautifully crafted and top of the line, but with an onyx handle. The other hand gun had an ivory handle. Papers, a silver cigarette case, a small flask of scotch, a trim silver lighter, a pen case. Whoever this broad was, she was loaded. There was probably over $50,000 worth of stuff on her.

Aldo was about to leave her on the bed when he saw a scarlet stain covering her midriff. Opening her shirt revealed a slightly bleeding wound, and it appeared to be where a bullet had grazed her side, nothing too serious. The uniform jacket was thrown on a chair haphazardly, and he called one of the other Basterds over.

"You, patch her up. We might need her, so make sure she doesn't kick the bucket before we can pick her brain," the lieutenant ordered. Then he lit up a cigarette and walked over to the second room they had rented, where his men were seated around on beds and stools.

He studied them individually, feeling tired. Omar looked bored, Smithson was fiddling with some thread on his coat sleeve, Wicki looked passive as usual, and Stiglitz looked terrifying. Well, that was anything new.

But Donny. Donny looked madder than an old wet hen. He was staring into space, repeatedly cracking his knuckles hard. Aldo knew it probably something to do with being caught so off guard, and by a woman to boot.

Aldo fingered one of the pistols they had picked up from the young woman, and plopped down next to Utvich on the bed. "Well, men. We've picked up a stray kitty who's got claws of gunpowder and steel. Now I know I've never considered lettin' a woman join the ranks before, knowin' how women are and how I can't let you be distracted, but this one's got a little edge. Omar, Smithson, Donny…you all saw how she worked. And if she's the one killing Nat-zis, then we know that we've got a trooper. Now, we're all 'Mericans, 'cept for Hugo here. We believe in Democracy. So, let's vote on whether we give her a chance or boot her ass out now.. I vote aye. Who's with me?"

Smithson shakily raised his hand, smiling a bit. Omar glanced at Donny, then put his hand up, too. Hugo stuck his hands in his pockets, staring grimly at Aldo. Wicki raised a few fingers in agreement.

Donny scowled at the yay-sayer and crossed his arms across his chest angrily. "You fuckers. That little bitch is gonna mess us up good," he muttered loudly enough for them to hear, but not really respond.

"Aight, then. It's settled. She can stay with us for the time bein'. Let's wake her up and see what she's got to say." Aldo gave Donny a stern look, as if to keep him in check, and stood. All the other men stood with him and walked into the other room.

The lieutenant placed her gun on the dresser, then paced over to the bed on the other side of the small room. The Basterds circled the bed, standing a bit defensively. Aldo grabbed a glass of water from one of the other men and studied the woman.

Her cropped hair was short and masculine, but retained the softness and shine of the gentler sex. It was a fine blond with streaks of copper, and the short, straight locks framed her face nicely. Her skin was slightly tan and riddled with small scars all over her body. Her uniform was most likely stolen, and the mustard colored shirt was slightly dingy. The pants were worn but neatly taken care of, and the boots scuffed to the point where no polish could revive them.

"Well?" Donny said, a respective tone but a sneer in his voice. Aldo tossed the glass of water into the woman's face, causing her to jerk into consciousness. She gasped and sat up, her face dripping. Her fierce blue eyes went back and forth over the faces of the men, her whole being tense with anger and confusion.

"Mornin', sleepin' beauty. It seems now that you've joined our little shin dig, we'd like to know more about you. First things first; who the hell are you?" Aldo inquired.

She wiped her face clean and took in a deep breath. She sat up fully and soaked up a bit more of her surroundings, and pushed herself against the headboard of the bed. "My name is Leola Krieger." She spoke in crisp English, as if she had been taught by a strict instructor. "I am from Northern Italy. I am looking for …someone in the German military."

"Someone you gotta kill? Because that appears to be all you been doin', Miss Krieger," Aldo remarked. The men around him shifted a bit; they wanted to know more about this mysterious woman.

"Yes. All I know is that he has entered the Nazi military, and that I will stop at nothing until he is destroyed. And I will kill anyone who gets in my way," she said through gritted teeth. Leola's hair glinted in the yellow lamp light; she caught Donny's eye and kept it until he looked away.

"Well, that's all fine and dandy. But my men here have a heard a bit about you, said you're known as the Lion, or somethin' like that. Now why would people give that moniker? And what are you doin' with these?" Raine held up one of her pistols. She glared at him and ran a small hand through her short hair.

"It is my own. I use them to search," she said simply. Leola placed her hands on her stomach and started to relax. She felt something underneath her shirt and unbuttoned it to reveal that her wound had been crudely bandaged. She threw another glance around the room and felt a bit more safe in their presence; why would an enemy help heal her?

"So, you really are the one goin' round, killin' all the Nat-zis before we can, huh?" Aldo said softly. She shrugged. "How many would you say you've killed?" he asked out of curiosity.

"Not enough."

He grinned. "Sounds good to me. We're headin' out tomorrow to go … huntin'. You can stay here for the night, and tomorrow you can choose whether or not you want to join my troop. Try to open up a bit; we don't like strangers too much."

Leola studied his face. It was rugged and arrogant, but honest. The gruesome scar across his neck was a bit intimidating, but she pushed it out of her mind. She had more important things to talk about.

"May I go back out into town? I was waiting for someone when your man here," she jerked her chin towards Donowitz, "rudely interrupted me.

Aldo thought about it a minute. Omar was too slow, Utvich too trusting. Wicki too uncaring, and Hugo too dangerous. He shrugged, then waved his hand. "Yeah, sure. Just be back by dawn. And Donny," he cocked an eyebrow at his sergeant while trying not to grin, "go with the lioness, keep her outta trouble."

Donny scowled, but Leola ignored him. She slid off of the bed and stood up straight to an unimpressive 5'5. She threw her coat back on and tucked her effects back into her pockets, last of all her two pistols, the blue-gray steel glinting in the light. Setting her cap back in place, she started for the door. Donny pulled his uniform jacket on too, and ran after her into the darkness, mad as hell that his superior had forced this upon him.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Donny yelled at her as they walked briskly down the street. Leola wanted to get back to the alley quickly, praying that her man was still there.

"Hey! Slow the fuck down!" Donny shouted as he reached out and grabbed her arm. She turned on her heel and had her fist clenched, right under his chin. It took every ounce of self control she had not to take him out, but Donny was on his guard this time. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her arms so that she couldn't move.

Leola glared at him, her breath short as her wound throbbed. She tried to shift away from them, but they were so close their knees knocked together. She stared up into his face and tried to think of a way to get away from him, but kept getting distracted by his dark, piercing then jerked back from him, rubbing her wrists and glaring. "You did not need to come with me. I am simply going to meet my informant and return." she turned and started walking, more slowly, towards the alleyway.

"Trust me, lady, if I didn't have to be here, I wouldn't be," Donny muttered. He followed her into the alleyway, where three other men were standing. Two seemed to be holding up the other man, who was up against a wall. He could hear Leola take in a sharp breath.

"Stay back a bit," she whispered, then pulled out one of the small hand guns, the one with the black handle. She aimed while still in the shadows; the men had not seen her. They were yelling in German at the small man they were holding up, and Donny could see the grinning skulls twinkling on their hats. They were SS members.

He watched her steady hand and watched her pull the trigger, her arm kicking back slightly from the recoil, but - no sound. The bullet hadn't made a noise as it exited the barrel. Donny figured that it had malfunctioned; no bullet could have come out. But even as he thought this, glass bottles and brick exploded behind the men in the back of the alley.

All three men turned and looked at the exploding refuse, enough of a distraction for Leola to place a silent bullet in the Nazi's skulls. The men's bodies crumpled to the ground, and the smaller man stepped over them. Donny was staring at her, trying to understand what he had just witnessed. She gave him a small smile and then turned her attention to the other man. The Jew figured he would just ask later; no point in interrupting this little reunion.

"_Mia donna_!" He exclaimed, rushing to her and kissing both of her cheeks. He was modestly dressed and looked as if he had been traveling for days. They spoke in rapid Italian, none of which Donny caught.

"_My lady! Oh, Mistress Bernoulli, how have you been? Your father is worried sick, you know that. Have you found the Kraut bastard yet_?"

"_Fratello, it is all okay! I promise. I am doing quite well. I have not found him, but I have a more urgent question. Have you brought my cigarettes? This French shit is driving me crazy_."

He laughed softly and handed her a small package; Leola smiled at him gratefully.

"_I must go, my lady. I've already been here too long. Please take care._" He kissed her again on the cheeks, then turned and left very quickly.

Leola pulled a cigarette out of the package and offered it to Donny; he took it silently. She pulled out another, then tucked the pack into her coat. The Jew offered her a light, and she thanked him in subdued English. They smoked in silence for a while.

"I did not mean to attack you, Donowitz. It was simply that I was frightened and wounded, surely you understand," she said quietly.

Donny glanced over at her; her eyes were glazed with tears as she watched the receding back of her fellow countryman. He looked away. "Forget about it. Not like you hurt me anyways."

She smiled softly and took a long drag on her cigarette. Leola closed her eyes and began to think of all the things she was missing back home. Her father, their estate, her friends, her real food…

"Hey, why is your last name German, if you're Italian. That doesn't make much sense," Donny pondered.

"My …husband was German. I do not like to remember that name, so if you would, please call me Leola."

Donny nodded a bit and blew out a stream of smoke, then stubbed out his cigarette. "Understood."

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! This is my first fan fiction, so please rate and review. I would like to improve my writing style. I hope to update at least once a week, but I will try to as much as possible.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Inglourious Basterds. They belong to Quentin Tarantino.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This story will, for the most part, continue in Leola's point of view. Thank you for reads and reviews. I hope you in enjoy this chapter! Also, seeing as finals are coming up soon, there will be much more space between updates! My deepest apologies. Please review so that I know what to improve on.**

**- Marfa**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inglourious Basterds. I just own the DVD.**

Leola woke up to the sounds of men bustling about; this struck her as odd. She had spent her entire life in a man's world, with her father being the Don of one of Northern Italy's largest and most powerful Mafiosos. Men were always beckoning to her father's call, carrying guns and clomping around in heavy shoes.

She rubbed her eyes and smoothed her hair down as best she could; sleeping in a chair hadn't done much to help the locks that grazed her neck. She couldn't wait until she was done with this charade and she could go back to having her long mane of hair. Leola understood that ultimately the Nazi who had first cut her hair had done her a favor by providing her a proper disguise; she had still blown his brains out.

Within minutes, she had her boots on and her uniform neatly tucked and primped. She looked like the dutiful soldier waiting for orders. Leola walked down the hallway of the small inn and snatched a washcloth from the communal bathroom, soaking it in steaming, soapy water while dodging others shaving and washing. As she cleaned behind her ears and neck as her mother had always quietly told her to, the leader walked past her and edged his way into the washroom.

"So, kitty cat, you comin' with us or hittin' the road? 'Cuz we're leavin' in about …I'd say ten minnits." He splashed water onto his face, rubbing cheap soap into his pores.

She rinsed the rag and wiped her face again, wetting down her hair as well. "Mister Basterd, since we have the same prerogative, I believe that I will continue with your company until my task is complete, _if _that is all well with you."

He grinned and rinsed his face, then scrubbed it dry with a coarse towel. "Name's Lieutenant Aldo Raine, and don't you forgit it. The skinny one's Utvich, the short one is Omar, the scary one is Hugo, German but not scary is Wicki, and of course you know Donny. You'll get to know 'em in time, don't worry. They like to fuck around, but they're all worth their salt, and damn good soldiers." He struck out a hand and she took it firmly in her own, smiling at him genuinely.

Leola finished freshening up, then went outside to get rid of the stale air in her lungs. She leaned against the building and watched as children ran through the streets, screaming happily in fluid French. She smiled a little, wondering what it would be like if things hadn't gone so wrong. If he hadn't wanted children. If he hadn't been German. If he hadn't left. If he hadn't -

"Good morning, Leola. How are you feeling?" It was the tall, lanky, young one, looking chipper for this early in the morning.

She flashed him a polite but untrusting smile. "I am quite well, thank you. I do not mean to be rude, but what is your name again?"

His cheeks reddened and he looked away from her. "Oh, um, I'm Smithson Utvich. Feel free to call me Smithson."

Leola's face returned to its usual somber tone. "Of course."

The rest of the soldiers steadily streamed out of the building, milling about and running last minute errands. Aldo was the last to come out of the inn after paying the keeper who was more than happy to have these Americans off his hands. He glanced about his men, making sure everyone looked suitable. They were keeping up their civilian façade, dressed mostly in slacks and dingy shirts with cheap but thick coats. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Leola inching away from the small crowd, trying to blend in with the red brick walls.

Aldo grimaced. Comparing her to the other men, she stuck out like a sore thumb. That Nazi uniform was garish in the group of comfortable looking clothing. "Hey, Omar. Gimme a pair of your smallest pants, and that one shirt that no one can fit in. Oh, and a jacket, too. It seems we're needin' to dip into our box o' costumes for the dame."

Omar came back with the wad of clothing and handed it to his superior.

"Hey, kitty cat -"

"I would prefer it if you called me Leola -"

"Here's some civilian clothes. Go make yerself presentable; we ain't runnin' around with no costumed Kraut on our hands."

She stared at him, trying to see if he was joking or not. Finally, she took the clothing and ran back into the inn's washroom, hoping to get changed as quickly as possible.

Folding her stolen uniform as carefully as possible, she examined the clothing. The shirt was so large on her it could pass as a frock, and the pants had to be held with her uniform belt. Leola rolled the sleeves up and pulled the trousers over the tops of her boots, then tucked her cigarettes, pistols, and other effects in the various pockets on the coat. It gave her a thrill to be wearing men's clothing; it reminded her of going to the mattresses with her father's buttonmen, when she still held a place of worth in his eyes.

"Hey! What's the hold up, girly? We're sicka waitin' out here!" A heavy fist pounded on the door of the water closet; she ripped the door open angrily to see that damned Jew with those damned eyes there. Leola swore he could see through her soul with that arrogant smirk and those cocked eyebrows.

"Well, well, well, playin' dress up, is we?" Donny said with an accusing tone. "Don't seem too high and mighty when your not dressed like a fuckin Kraut, do ya?"

She shoved past him, clutching her uniform to her chest. "What does it matter to you, Donowitz? It is not like you are in charge of this operation. Hey!"

He slammed his hand against the wall beside her, blocking her passage. "Why you got such a stick up yer ass, huh? It's not like we killed yer husband!"

"My husband?"

"Yeah, yer man. Ain't that why you're out here, killin' every goddamn Nazi in sight? 'Cuz they killed him or something? That's why you don't like your last name."

"Mister Donowitz, if you had one ounce of sense in that thick American skull of yours, you would - Argh! This is useless speaking to you!" she angrily yelled as clenched her fist. She swung at him but hit the wall instead, trying to curb her anger. The last thing she needed was to be taken out by some fucking Kike who was just pushing her buttons. Leola ducked under his arm and stomped out to the truck, furious at him for assuming he knew her, and furious with herself for losing her temper. It was always her temper.

It took Donny a minute to realize what had just happened. He looked to the wall where her fist had just struck; the thin wallpaper was ruined and the boards beneath it were cracked. She had nearly busted his jaw wide open. He looked at her back disappearing down the hall, her stomping resounding through the inn.

"Damn…"he muttered, not sure if he should be angry or anxious.

Leola snatched the cap extended to her from Aldo and shoved it on her head. She glared at him, as if begging him to ask her what happened so that she could scream and rave and beat the shit outta something.

Her slightly tanned skin seemed a little too tight; she'd have to loosen up or this war would kill her. Aldo's calm, experienced eyes met her angry ones; he clapped a hand on her shoulder and turned to the rest of the group. "Aight, men," Aldo barked, "it's time to hit the ole dusty trails. Hopefully yeh got all yer shit together, 'cuz we ain't comin' back. We're on our way to Paris my pretties, and I wanna get there. Soon. Get in the truck!"

The men scrambled into the long military truck, with Aldo and Donowitz in front. Leola gracefully pulled herself into the back of the truck, trying to forget the previous events. She took a deep, calming breath, then looked around. There was one seat available on the long benches lining the inside of the truck, next to the hulking German brute. She sat down beside him as gently as possible, hoping with bated breath that he didn't decide to go berserk and kill her.

The truck started and moved slowly over the gravelly, cheap roads. Leola leaned her head back against the tarp wall of the vehicle, trying to think of a way to pass the time. She looked around herself cautiously, then parted her lips to speak.

"_How many here speak something other than English? Mine is not fluent enough for me to be confident,"_ she said in quiet, harsh German. She had been taught by her husband, and even her Italian accent wasn't enough to cover the roughness of the language.

The man beside her looked down at her, surprised. A taller, dark haired man with a calm face looked at her with piqued interest. The other men ignored her, unable to understand her murmuring.

"I don't speak Sauerkraut, pumpkin, yer gonna have to cut that mess," Aldo called from the front seat. His driving was superb, but he had a tendency to speed. Donowitz continuously yelled at him to slow down, they were on shit roads. He didn't want them to seem suspicious.

"I believe she is trying to introduce herself properly, Lieutenant. She merely asked how many of us aren't American," the man across from her explained in a deep, liquid English. It was much more advanced than her own; Leola made a mental note to try and get him to teach her better.

"_What is it that you want to know, Krieger?"_

She frowned. "_Please, call me Leola. What are your names? If I am to stay within your troop, I do not wish to be a ..stranger,"_ she said, remembering Aldo's words.

"_I'm Wilhelm Wicki, I escaped to America before the war broke. I am a citizen. Hugo here,"_ he nodded to the monstrous man, "_is a bit like yourself. We picked him up for his …talent."_

Leola looked at Hugo again; this time, he appeared a bit more human. She nodded and continued to ask questions. "_In your travels, have you come across one with the same surname as mine? I am looking for him. He is a Nazi."_

Wicki shook his head. _"Not to knowledge. There are bound to be more soldiers in Paris; we're heading there in a few days. You should look there. But tell me; where on earth did you get guns like those?"_

Leola grinned. "_My wedding gift from some of my father's…friends. They were quite generous. The one with the black handle is equipped with a silencer superior to any other, allowing me to work quietly. The second booms like a cannon; good for scaring people shitless."_

Wicki smiled and Stiglitz grinned. Donny glared out the window, wishing he could understand their conversation.

Leola shifted in her seat and glanced about at the other men. They seemed stern and focused for the most part, but relatively sane. It was the two in the front seat that worried her. She would have preferred to work alone, but their offer was too good to pass up. More people to search for that fucker. A damn good deal.

"_So, if you do not mind my asking, how did you get to be so… war-like? No offense intended, but you are not very womanly,"_ Wicki asked in gentle German.

"_My father's business required me to be of a more aggressive persuasion. It is quite useful, actually."_ she answered. She didn't like speaking of her father more than she had to; the family never spoke their true feelings to anyone outside of their ring of _omerta. _

The truck jerked to halt; Leola pulled her cheap coat around her shoulders tightly. There was the slam of a door and the crunch of leaves and brush under heavy boots. Leola peeked outside; everything was trees and bushes and tangles of growth. It was nearing dusk, and it was difficult to make out Aldo's body from the rest of the scene when he appeared at the entrance of the bed of the truck.

He grinned. "Alright, kiddos, let's get to crackin' and set up camp. It's almost huntin' time."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to get this out; I've just graduated and moving from house to house and such. I hope some of this will make up for it! I have a clear ending in mind, maybe in about 7 chapters or so. Now that summer has taken hold, I will have more time to write! **** Read! Review! Enjoy!**

Leola squatted against a tree, miserable that she couldn't do anything. Besides her aching side where that Nazi bullet had grazed her, there was nothing ailing her except her homesickness and her uselessness. The Basterds had their camping routine down to an art, and there was really no point in her trying to butt in and help. Aldo directed the men who were working on various jobs: laying out sleeping areas, lighting fires that produced no smoke, and breaking out the provisions while waiting for their prey.

According to the townsfolk, there was a camp full of Nazis just a half mile from where they were. The number of men was supposed to be under twenty, but more than five. They would have to figure out a way to kill all of them without letting any of them escape alive or unmarked.

Aldo glanced over to Leola, scanned his men, then pulled a map out of a crate Wicki was carrying. He called the men to sit around him and jerked his head in the Italian's direction, motioning for her to come along as well. They gathered in a circle around him, sitting Indian style.

"Aight, what we got here is bed o' snakes, down the road a piece. Way Ah see it, this is a contest. Whoever comes up wit' tha best plan-o'-akshin gets to proceed with their idear. So, who thinks what?"

"I say, we pile in there and kill every one of dem Krauts, the usual, Boss," Donny said grinning. A few of the other men nodded in agreement. Leola's face darkened; she didn't seem to care for the kill first, ask questions later policy they had been upholding.

"On tha other hand, Miss Kitty Cat ain't proved her salt yet. We could letter take 'em, provided we're on hold in case things get - ah - outta hand," Aldo murmured innocently, darting his eyes from Leola's view so she couldn't see the gleam of mischief in them.

The men all looked in her direction except for Donny. He glared at his superior, hoping that his look could kill, or at least change Aldo's mind. A couple of the Basterds laughed, until Stiglitz cleared his throat. "Let the woman show us her worth."

"Ja, sounds good," Wicki chimed in, and Smithson shrugged and nodded as well. The other men stopped laughing, then seemed to murmur in agreement.

"Allright, let's see if the little lady can take care of a few Krauts. Just remember dat we're da ones who have to clean up, mates," Donny said in a careless tone, annoyed that he wouldn't be beating anything soon.

Leola lifted her chin and looked into the face of every man. She sighed, "I thought that my reputation would have preceded me. I suppose that I shall accept your…challenge. And I shall succeed. Killing 'Nat-zis'," she spit the word through grinning teeth, "is my specialty."

The meeting broke and the men went milling about, some going to sleep and others warming food on the small fire.

"Omar, yer first watch wit' Smithson. Ah'll go wit' Wilhelm. An' Donowitz," Aldo ordered cheerily, "yer on last watch wit' Kitty Cat." Both members of the early morning watch scowled, but the Apache was doing this all for good reason. He hoped that by forcing the two together, they'd both lighten up, maybe even start hating the world a little less. The sun had disappeared, and all faded into sleep except for the dutiful night watch.

"Donowitz. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up." Leola nudged the Bear Jew's boot as gently as possible; if he woke up and got loud, the whole camp would be pissed off. The stars were starting to become indistinguishable, but the sun was not quite visible. She kicked his foot again, then rolled her eyes and walked off. Even if she had to patrol by herself, it would be better than his ignorant, tasteless, crass attitu-

"Morning, sunshine." Aw, fuck.

Leola walked lightly over to the small fire, setting a large steel pot on to boil. After searching around in one of the dark green canvas bags the American military had equipped them with, she pulled out some hard biscuits and a thick wedge of dark, orange cheese. She broke off a hunk of both, then returned them to their bag and tossed it to the Jew.

He grunted in thanks, still not entirely awake. Leola pulled a tin out of her own jacket pocket; a little bit of real coffee to make the army ration palatable. Her Italian delicacy, mixed with what was probably more dried corn and beans than real coffee. She sneered, but spooned the mix into the pot anyways, and waited.

Donny was off in the woods, doing manly things no doubt. Leola watched his back; his thick muscles strained in the dingy wife beater, most likely gained through beating in skulls. She picked at the biscuits and ate quickly, using the cheese to aid the tasteless meal.

She wondered what it would be like to be a man, a strong, masculine man. Donowitz was masculine; the very definition of the word: strong, territorial, brutal. Men like him made her feel smaller, weaker, and there was nothing she hated more than that feeling. Donny finished his business, walked over to the fire, and cocked an eyebrow in her direction.

She poured boiling black coffee into an aluminum mug and walked over to the truck, ignoring him.

Donny followed her actions and climbed up into the bed of the truck, sitting on the opposite side of it. She sat stiffly, crossing her legs in a lady like manner; he relaxed against the tarp of the vehicle, sitting in a most manly, crude way.

The Bear Jew pulled a small steel flask out of his coat pocket, opened it with his teeth, then poured a good bit of amber liquid into his coffee. He caught her looking, then offered the flask to her. Leola took it gingerly, then tipped the fierce smelling whiskey into her coffee. She passed it back and took a deep breath. It probably wasn't the best idea to drink on the job, but nothing would be better to calm her nerves. And by God, was she nervous.

Leola gulped half of the coffee in a few seconds, the scorching in her mouth familiar and welcome. Donny was staring at her. His hair was all over the place, and his body looked warm and strong, despite having moments ago been slung across the cold, hard ground. When her eyes flicked up to his, he was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Oh, lord. He had caught her looking. Damn.

Leola scowled and threw the rest of the coffee down her throat. The whiskey's bitter taste was completely masked by the coffee, but her veins felt warmer with the aid of the alcohol. Setting the cup down, she pulled out her slender cigarette case and popped it open, took one out, and lifted it to her lips.

Etiquette took over and she extended the silver case to the hulking man across from her. Donny's eyebrows lifted, but he took one and had a lighter to her own cigarette before she even had time to return the case to its proper pocket. She nodded a thanks, then took a long drag. The sun was starting to peek over the edge of the world.

"So." His accent was so infuriating. It was not musical, nor beautiful, nor…anything. It reeked of America.

"Why are you going 'round, killing Krauts and stuff? I mean, you gotta have a reason. At least a reason for the arsenal you're packing." His elbows rested on his knees and he focused on her.

"I could ask you the very same question, Donowitz," Leola softly said, trying not to let her veil slip. Omerta must be kept. Except…well…it's not like he's an enemy…but…

"I'm servin' my country, 'kay? Now, what're you here for? Last I knew, Italy was part of the Axis. These are your allies you're knocking off." He had such dark eyes, and they would not move from her face. Maybe it was him, maybe it was the liquor, but her cheeks felt as hot as coals.

She turned her face away from him, hoping that if she couldn't see his face, she wouldn't feel compelled to answer. He sat back and sighed. "I feel like we got off to a bad start, and I ain't usually one for apologizing'. But… Aldo sees you as an equal. So…how 'bout we pretend that alley incident never happened-"

"You mean, pretend that I never kicked your ass?"

He glared. "I was blindsided."

Leola laughed; it was gentle, but muted. She let out a stream of smoke, savoring its taste and the bit of silence.

"What do you want from me, Donowitz?"

Donny grinned boyishly, then stubbed out his cigarette on the bed floor. "Information. What's all this 'bout yer old man's business, and all that jazz? He a thug?"

"Hardly!" she scoffed, looking at him incredulously. "He is a highly respectable man trying to provide for his family, who does not wish to succumb to a mass takeover that is the government."

"So he's a thug."

"Do you know why there is no heroin in almost all of New England? My father. He is a good man."

"Mhmm. What about your family? Any brothers? Sisters?" he relaxed against the tarp of the truck.

Leola sat more at ease, finishing her cigarette. "Four sisters. I am the oldest. I am the family diplomat, my father's right hand man. A negotiator."

"An' a dip-low-mat needs guns like yours?"

She smiled wryly. "A wedding present."

Donny shifted uncomfortably. "You married?"

"Not for much longer."

He nodded. "So why you out here again? Not servin' God and country, and it don't sound like your pa's got too much grief with the Third Reich."

She looked at him, studying his face before choosing her words carefully. "I am looking for one Nazi. His name is Christoph Krieger. Once I find him, I will kill him, and then I will return home. I will have no further business with the Nazi party, or this war, or the Basterds."

Donny digested this information. "Well then, seems like this prick is your husband, which means he left ya."

"He cheated."

"Ouch."

"My father disapproved all along. I should have listened."

"Some French dame no doubt. What a dick."

"American. From New York."

"Ooh, really? Gotta watch dem broads, they'll twist you round real quick like. And your dad?"

"Not too pleased with the situation. He trusted me with the whole Family, too."

"Until you married that big gay faggot."

"Precisely."

"And you're out for revenge."

"You are smarter than I thought, Donowitz."

"Please, call me Donny. Only Aldo calls me Donowitz, and that's only when he's pissed."

"Well then Donny, you may call me Leola."

"Wait, I thought we could already call you that?"

"No nicknames."

"Now, that's not any fair at all, Leo."

"Non! Nein! No! No nicknames!" she shook her head furiously.

He laughed at her. It must have been the alcohol, but she was trying to remember why she disliked him in the first place. Oh right, it was because he attacked her while wounded. Well, that was merely a scratch now, no reason to be upset. She smiled sheepishly, then glanced out into the forest. The other men were all still asleep, and the sun wasn't even over the tops of the trees soon. In a few hours, she'd be back to blowing Nazis to pieces with those beautiful Umberti pistols of hers.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled; there was breathing _much_ too close to her. She turned her head to see Donny now sitting beside her, the whiskey/coffee mixture strong on his breath. Leola felt her face flush red, and she felt ten times more sober already. Donny put a hand on her waist, right under her wound, and pulled her close against his body. Shocked, she held still while his lips drifted between her ear and collarbone.

"Goddamn….I haven't smelled an honest to God woman in too fucking long…"he murmured into her skin, his lips pressed to her neck. His dark lashes brushing against her flesh as he breathed deeply, savoring her scent like a fine cigarette.

"Donny, this is not the time, this is inappropriate. You should stop now, please," Leola whispered in a harsh tone. She was used to dealing with rough men, not gentle ones.

"Hush up, Leo. You're fine, just lemme …" he opened his eyes to see her frightened ones, her breathing erratic as she remained motionless in his grasp. Donny took advantage of the moment and kissed her, hard. His hand shot up to her pale hair, holding her small, red mouth to his. Leola panicked, scared but still warming to his touch. This asshole! How dare he kiss her without permission! She pushed against his chest, his teeth still holding her lip hostage as he pulled back a bit.

Donny finally relinquished her entirely, letting out a deep breath. Leola's hands were still firmly on his chest, one tangled in his dark curls. Her labored breathing betrayed her emotions.

"Hey, Leo."

"W-what?"

"The sun's up."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you for all the views, it makes me so happy to know that, even if I'm amateur, someone is somewhat enjoying what I do. Read! Review! Enjoy!**

Damn it. _Damn _it. He'd gotten the better of her. He'd kissed her, she'd enjoyed it, and he knew it. _Damn it!_

Donowitz had run off to his superior to plan their day as soon the kiss ended. No explanation, no apology, no confession. Leola was left totally clueless. _Men,_ she thought sullenly. She had the worst luck with them.

She'd always considered herself one of the boys back home. She worked, ate, and fought with the men her father owned. They all paid her respect, not only for being the boss' daughter, but for having the vigor and vim to go in blazing right along with them. Whether it was a money dispute or a murder, she was right in the middle of it, doling out retribution.

And when her father had political events, she was on top of things; making appearances across the continent to make alliances between governments and her father. It was on one of these trips that she met Christoph.

That dog. That German dog. She understood later that it wasn't that he was powerful, but he was cocky. He was the only man she'd ever met who didn't treat her as an equal, and she'd taken it as infatuation. He was just a soldier, no status or power. When they married, her father had removed her from her position of prestige. Leola, his little Lioness, had broken his old heart. She had married below her rank, and a German to boot.

And then he cheated! She trusted him, and she goes to visit her father, ailing from an assassination attempt, for a single week, only to come back and find him gone, without a trace. Her single clue came when some American whore stopped by to see if "Christy" was home, and that she hadn't known he was married. Then came the letters from his commanding officers, ordering him to report in Munich immediately.

The only way she would rise back to her father's good graces is if she got rid of this German bastard. And if she had to kill every goddamn Nazi from Italy to the end of the wor-

"Mornin', Kitty Cat. Ready fer some tar-git practice?" Aldo asked in a cheery yet grim tone.

Leola snapped out of thought. "Yes, Lieutenant, I am ready to complete my challenge."

"Aight. 'Bout 500 yards from here, seven Kraut son' a bitches lay frolickin' and shit. Kitty Cat, yer job is ta take 'em all out."

The men and woman were grouped around a map, studying the position of the enemy. All of them were alert, thanks to the shitty coffee that was now boiling their insides. Donny kept his mouth quiet and his eyes away from Leola's. Noticing his avoiding her, Leola rolled her eyes and tried to forget the Jew. She had work to do.

"So, I will approach them as an officer separated from my division, and ask them for aid until I can contact my supervising commander."

"Uh-huh. An' if ya ain't gottem ded in 'bout twenty minnits, Wicki an' Hugo'll be in there quicker then a duck on a June bug," Aldo nodded.

"Agreed. Then, I am off." Leola broke off from the group and bowed her head neatly. She walked quickly over to the back of the truck as the men dispersed and went about their own ways. Pulling herself up nimbly, she clunked to the back where the trunk of extra clothes, and her Nazi uniform, were stored.

Leola had pulled off all but her cotton chemise and long underpants before she realized there was someone behind her. She glanced back and saw Donny boring holes into the side of the truck with his eyes, his cheeks red at her lack of shame but his lips twitching into a grin at her tenacity.

She pulled on her uniform pants and belted them quickly, then her jacket, buttoning it neatly. The pretty little Italian had already sat down to tie her boots when Donny started talking.

"Look, Leo, about this morning'"

"I do not wish to talk about it."

"But-"

"No."

He looked at her, pouting as she stood up and straightened her medals into place. She snatched her cap out of the trunk and fixed it on her head, trying to cover most of her glinting blond hair. Leola then pulled herself up to her full height, clicked her heels together at attention, then looked up at Donny with a tiny smirk. "And I believe I said, no nicknames."

Donny grinned at this and rolled his eyes at her. "An' who're you to be givin' orders, pipsqueak?" he goaded, poking her in the forehead with his index finger. In about two seconds, she had his arm in a twist so fierce that she could break it with ease. For a moment they just stood there, Leola feeling victorious, when Donny backed his way out of the twist using brute force, then pinning her arms behind her while her legs were twisted against him.

So surprised was she at her entrapment, that she could hardly breathe. She was pressed much too close to Donny for the second time in one day. And by God, he was _smirking_ again! With one hand he held her there, the other pulling her chin up so she could look at him. Leola blushed angrily, then snapped down and bit his hand.

"Jesus!" he yelped, immediately letting go of her. She composed herself and waited for Donny to stop overreacting. "God-fucking-dammit! Why in the hell did you _do _that!" he turned on her, nearly yelling.

"Aww, povero bambino," Leola cooed, took his hand in her and lightly kissed the place where she had nipped him.

Donny immediately calmed down, and mumbled, "I'll get you back for that."

Taking her lips from his hand, she put her hands on her hips and ignored him. "Now, where is your whiskey. I do not want to go into this fight too terribly unprepared."

As Donny fumbled through his coat pockets for the flask, Leola packed her pockets with her cigarette case, some ammunition, and her pistols. The rest of her effects she left in her civilian coat; only the bare necessities today. Her own scotch flask was pitifully empty, as she had forgotten to fill it up in town. Anyways, it was improper for women to drink hard liquor. Not that she looked like a woman.

Leola took the flask from his and twisted off the cap, then threw back a long swig. She tried her best not to flinch as the bitter fire streamed down her throat. Handing it back to him, she took a deep breath and willed the strong drink to take effect.

Clomping her heavy, manly boots, she jumped down from the back of the truck. Donny did not follow, but she continued on. She had to make it to the Nazi camp before afternoon; she didn't want to risk a firefight in the dark of night.

She was about twenty meters from the camp. She could smell their fires, hear their harsh German commands, taste their sorry army rations on the wind. That hardtack biscuit for breakfast was terrible; at least the whiskey had filled some of her appetite.

It was late morning, and sunlight was still streaming through the trees of the dense forest. The road was well worn, this avenue straight to the Hell that was this holocaust. She shuddered to think of the people that might have gone down this very road, alive or dead.

Fifty paces from the camp, she looped the necklace with family crest on it through her fingers, thumbed the engraved cross on the back, and said a quick, silent rosary like the good little Catholic her mother thought she was.

"Halt!" one of the Nazis called from the camp, catching sight of her. "Who are you? What is your station?"

"Hallo!" she returned, praying her accent didn't betray her. "My name is Captain Christoph Krieger, I have been separated from my company. It seems that I took a wrong turn while trying to get to the nearest town, and my vehicle has run out of fuel. Perhaps you could aid me?"

The private who had first called to her smiled and motioned her onwards. "Come on, we are having a celebration. We have discovered a ghetto full of Jewish rats a mile from here. As soon as we eat, we are going to torch them."

So this was the reason for them cooking in the middle of the day. Leola smiled slightly and glanced around the camp. There were _definitely _more than seven Nazis here, more like twenty-seven. "_I have to kill them all before they finish partying, so that those Jews are safe. Oh goodness_," she thought.

"I am feeling ill from walking, may I see your medic?" she asked politely as the commanding officer, a Captain Kirchhoff, appeared before her.

He frowned. There was a light sweat upon the young, strange man's skin, but he no doubt had the uniform of a captain. And the name Krieger was familiar with all of the commanders as a playboy and a deserter. "Our medic died of typhoid just three days ago. You are welcome to use his supplies, though. His tent is over there, to the left." It was in the back, but accessible from all directions in the camp.

Leola smiled again and bowed graciously. "Danke, Captain. Please, continue your celebration, I did not wish to intrude." With that she turned on her heel and marched to the little tent. She only had to survive twelve more minutes before Wicki and Stiglitz came to her rescue.

"Whatchu doin' with thet gal, Donowitz?" Aldo drawled.

"Nothin, Lieutenant." Donny turned his face from his superior. They were sitting together next to the truck, where the rest of the men were playing cards.

"Don't lie ta me, boy."

"I ain't done nothin' wit' dat dame, sir!"

"Uh-huh. Which is why Ah ain't herd y'all squallin' like cats all mornin', hmm?"

"She sure is different though, Lieutenant."

"Shore is." he looked at his pocket watch. "'Ay, Stiglitz, Wicki, git ta gittin'. If ya want ta git ta that there camp and see some akshun, better go now." The German men muttered in agreement, folded their cards, then slipped on some Nazi uniforms.

It was time to take a chance. Leola had been hiding in the medic's tent for almost eight minutes, counting every second. Six men had walked over to her side of the woods to piss, and she had taken out every one of them with the silencing gun. The bodies were piling up in the tent, and she could hardly breathe. She knew it would be foolhardy and reckless and all that stuff, which was why she had to do it.

Leola returned the black handled pistol to her coat, then pulled out the white one. Aiming for the fire farthest away from her tent, she fired straight and true. Like a delayed reaction, the bullet left the barrel before a sound was made. Then, as the bullet tore into the fire wood, spitting ash and flaming splinters up into the air like a demon. A noise louder than thunder or cannon fire or God himself ripped threw the atmosphere. All of the soldiers jumped and ran about it confusion, some even being eaten by the tongues of fire thrust into their personal space.

The young woman, so used to battles of this nature, shoved the white handled gun to her coat and yanked out the black one, then picked off her prey one by one. She was no longer worried about anything, except finding the one Nazi who she owed extra pain and suffering. Quite a few were running to the medic tent in hopes of finding a balm for their burns, but all the found was a bullet to the face and the cold hand of Death.

"Did you hear that? Christ, it sounded like…I don't even know what that sounded like," Wicki muttered to Stiglitz. They were coming up on the Nazi camp, and smoke was prevalent in the sky above it.

"Nein." Stiglitz answered, staring ahead resolutely. His sub machine gun banged against his side as he quickened his pace.

Twenty-five. Where was Captain Kirchhoff? There were twenty-six shells on the ground, where were the last two men? Leola stealthily climbed out of the tent and stalked over to the middle of the camp, seeking her last two victims. Walking into the middle of the camp, she spied one soldier huddled on the ground.

"Il mio piccolo tesoro, mi sei mancato," she murmured, then lodged a bullet in his brain. She looked up the road and saw two more German soldiers hurrying towards the scene. Leola had not taken into account back-ups for the Germans; she lifted her arm to aim when a bullet whizzed by from behind her head.

Without turning her head, Leola flicked her arm backwards and over her shoulder. With a flick of the trigger she killed Captain Kirchhoff.

Studying the two Germans loping up the road to the camp, she recognized them as Wicki and Stigltz. She breathed deeply, then placed her gun back into her coat. She pulled out her necklace, wrapped it around her trembling fingers, and placed her lips to the cross on the back of the pendant. She whispered a solemn rosary like the good little Catholic her mother thought she was. Then, Leola turned and searched every Nazi hide in the camp, searching for Christoph Krieger.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews, and thanks again for reading! This is a shorter chapter than usual, but I'm hoping the next one will be even better. Please review so I can improve! I love messages and all that jazz. But enough about me, more about the Bear Jew! Read! Review! Enjoy!**

"How many?" A tap on the snuff box was all it took; a pinch to settle his nerves.

"Seven and twenty, sir."

"Lawdalmighty." Damn, this cheap shit tobacco burned like hellfire. Just how he liked it.

"Yes, Lieutenant. I've never seen anything like it. This does, however, prove that she was the one taking out entire enemy troops on her own."

"Goddamn."

Aldo tucked his snuff box back into his coat and pulled at his nose. Wicki and Stiglitz were sitting with him around the remains of their cooking fire. The most of his men were back at the Nazi camp, scalping and mutilating the dead Krauts. The news of her success settled in his mind, and he mulled over the information. That woman was something else, like a beast. Like a lion. He chuckled softly at this thought, then glanced over to the area of camp set aside for sleeping quarters.

Leola had come back to camp, escorted by Wicki and Stiglitz. After eating her share of the lunch rations, she had chased the meal with whiskey and passed out on her pallet. Two hours later, and she was still sleeping soundly. Aldo had decided it was time to figure out what had happened at the Nazi camp, and knew no answers would come from that dame.

Learning the news of her success made Aldo a very happy man. He was sure glad picking her up on the way had paid off. The superior officer dismissed his men to go about their business now that the threat of Nazis was gone, and his eyes trailed over to the hulking Bear Jew. Donny had neglected to really dress himself; his uniform coat was unbuttoned and thrown on haphazardly over that dingy wife beater of his. The sergeant was sitting against a tree, his eyes glazed over.

Aldo pulled himself up and walked over to Donny. "'Ey, boy. You gonna go wake 'er up or what? I ain't payin' no-body ta sleep in mah camp in the light a' day."

Donny looked up at his superior, almost pleadingly. "An' what if she shoots me? I ain't goin' roun' no trigger happy broad like that." The young Jew went back to staring at his boots.

Aldo sneered, "Then ya deserve ta be shot, ya lily livered pussy! Now, Donowitz, git ta gittin'!" He kicked the sergeant in the shins just hard enough to get him on his feet, then turned and walked back over to Wicki, to try and gain more details.

Donny stood up with a grunt and sluggishly walked over to the sleeping Leola. The closer he got, the more he expected her to pop up with a gun in hand. After the way she came back into camp, there was no way of telling what her mood would be like when she was awakened.

First, he tapped her boot gently with his foot. No response.

He kicked her harder. Nothing.

"Leola."

Nada.

"Hey, Leola, get up. Aldo said get up."

…

"Leo, get yer ass up now!" Donny nearly yelled, getting frustrated.

She turned over so she was on her back and shielded her eyes from the sunlight. "As I recall, I told you not to call me that," Leola murmured in a voice warm and muddled with sleep.

Donny kneeled beside her and grinned, "An' as I recall, I never said I would listen."

"What time is it?" she asked sleepily.

"'Bout 3 in the evening' I'd guess." At this, she groaned and flipped back over onto her side. The Jew sighed and stood up, then bent down and picked her up around waist and threw her over his shoulder.

"AaaggGGHHH! What in all the hells do you think you are doing put me down! You oaf! Put me down, I am awake! Put. Me. Down!" Leola screamed, pounding his back with her fists, writhing and struggling.

"Lieutenant's orders, Leo. Are you sure yer awake?" Donny asked, trying hard not to laugh. The other men in the camp snickered at her predicament.

Donny carried her towards the woods until Leola could no longer see the campsite, and he set her down. After straightening her clothes, she turned on the much larger man, and glared at him.

"Aw, now, is that any way to treat yer bestest buddy from saving you from a fate worse than death?"

"And what might that be, you pompous, arrogant, brute?"

"Man, Leo, dem's fightin' words," he said with a dark voice, cocking his brows at her.

"And what are you going to do about it, hmm? Fight me?" Leola scoffed. Within seconds, he had her against a tree, his leg pinning hers in place, and one hand grasping her wrists above her head with ease. Donny smirked when she realized her total immobility.

"I win."

"Damn you and all other men. It is not fair that you are so much stronger," she pouted. "And what was this "fate worse than death" you spoke of?"

"Aldo likes to find snakes for us to curl up with if we sleep too late. An' don't stick yer lip out like dat, I might bite it off. I did say I would get you back for earlier."

Leola sucked her lips in tight, her eyes searching his face for some clue as to whether he was joking or not. His face moved past her's to her neck, his lips ghosting over her skin til they reached her ear. Gently, he bit her ear lobe. "That," he murmured, tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue, "was for yesterday."

She shivered from the contact, her knees feeling weak. Her mind kept screaming how improper these actions were, how her mother would be ashamed, but she silenced them. Men took what they wanted all the time; why couldn't she? This man was rough, foreign, and powerful, and she wanted him.

Donny moved his lips over her jaw, teasing her mercilessly; her red lips parted with a gasp. He took his chance and claimed her mouth, tongue, teeth and all. His hand dropped from her wrists and went to her waist, pulling her body closer to his. His other hand snaked its way from the hem of her uniform to her neck, holding her forcefully. Pressed against the tree, he dominated her movements with a simple flick of his tongue or tender love bite.

Leola moaned ever so softly, her now free hands tangling themselves in his thick, dark hair. Her heart was pounding furiously, and she wondered if Donny could hear it. Her pulse seemed to be bursting through her eardrums, a staccato beat that was urging her on. She hitched her leg up around his hip, pulling him flush against her. The hand on her neck loosened its grip and slid downwards, pulling open the buttons of her uniform as it did.

She felt his hand move up to her breast, groping roughly. Donny pinched her hard nipple, and she squealed into his lips. Leola bucked her hips into his, her back arching and pushing her breasts into his hand. He growled and bit her lip hard, his other hand moving from her waist to her ass. A breath more like a hiss escaped her teeth, and she pulled back abruptly.

Ripping away from Donny's strong arms was difficult, but she did it. Her head felt like it was splitting in two, her eyes were swimming with tears. "What am I doing? Oh, what am I doing? What is wrong with me! Why can I not do anything right?" she thought as she held her head together. Tears were now spilling uncontrollably down her cheeks; all of her veneer and cold exterior had completely collapsed.

"Ey, Leo, Leola! It's okay! You haven't done anything wrong, babe, what in the hell are you talking about?"

_Oh. Those were not thoughts. I was saying these things out loud. I was-_

Leola's thoughts were interrupted when Donny wrapped his arms around her, clutching her to his chest. Sitting on a fallen tree, he pulled her onto his lap and rocked her. He shushed her tears and stroked her hair, totally bewildered but trying his best to calm her.

When her sobs subsided, he wiped away the last of her tears and tipped her chin up. "Now, Leo, tell me what's all this yer boohooin' about."

Leola sniffed, then looked down at her boots. "I-I am just frightened. I am worried that my father will never accept me again, and I know that he will not if I do not get rid of Christoph for good. I am so tired of pretending to be a man, pretending to be strong and cold and I just want to do things my way and not disappoint anyone else!"

Donny was silent for a few moments, then kissed the top of her hair. "Leo, that's quite a load ya got there. I don't think any of that really matters though; what matters is you. Do what makes you happy; don't give a shit whether it's proper or 'womanly' or all that bull. Personally, I think most women are terrible. Stupid, too. But yer a real gem; ya got sense and a good head on ya shoulders."

He kissed her forehead softly, "and don't worry 'bout no one else. Tell ya what; I propose this plan a' action. When this damned war is over, you should come back to the States with me."

"Do you really think I could, Donny?"

"Hell, yeah! There's plenty of immigrants over there. Piece a cake. You'll be a citizen in no time."

Leola smiled a little, and Donny kissed her nose. "Now, you ready to get back to camp? Aldo is probably waiting on us. Don't forget to put that hardass act back on though; the men are mostly intimidated by you, and I find it hilarious."

The little Italian woman grinned and laughed. "In that case, I suppose I will have to resume my act." They stood and started walking back towards the camp.

Upon getting there, all was in chaos. The other Basterds were back, and were packing as quickly as possible; almost everything was back in the truck.

"Lieutenant, what's goin' on?" Donny called to Aldo, who was counting scalps into duffel bag.

"Huh? Oh, Donny. It seems our British friend is coming soon, so we gotta git to 'em soon. Ah'm sendin' the boys to the rendezvous point, and Ah'm waitin' for 'im out here. He's getting' dropped off in the fucking woods." Aldo rolled his eyes at this thought, annoyed at the shoddy planning of this meeting.

"Anyways, you go ahead wit the group and lead 'em the town. Ah think it's called Nadine, or sometin'."

"I know where that is, Lieutenant! My informant have met there before," Leola said, "I can get them there from here."

Aldo nodded. "Aight. You show Donny the way; he can drive. Git there, and stay put. Once Ah git this here British fool, we'll be up there shortly."

"Yes, sir!" Donny barked, grinning. He pumped his fist into the air, nearly jumping for joy.

The men were waiting in the truck; Leola started to climb in the back when Donny pulled her back by her coat. "You sit up front, I have no idea where in the hell I'm going." He leapt into the cab of the truck and started it up, beating on the steering wheel with impatience.

Leola daintily pulled herself onto the high seat. "What on earth are you so happy about?" she questioned, her eyes wide.

Donny was nearly bouncing out of his seat and said in an excited whisper, "I get to _drive._"


	7. Chapter 7

Leola had been through war. She had killed men in cold blood, she had sat through interogations in rooms full of people who wanted her dead. But nothing had quite set her teeth on edge like driving with Donowitz did. She gripped the bottom of the seat desperately, and finally relaxed when she saw they were approaching the city of Nadine. Donny's grin faded as he realized he would soon have to relinquish the wheel. Making sure to keep their eyes straight, they pulled the truck up to the curb next to a humble inn. Donny turned off the car and ordered the disguised soldiers to gather their things and make their way into the building. Leola climbed out of the truck and took in the surroundings, her heart sinking as she remembered meeting Fratello here once. She skimmed the store signs until one in particular jogged her memory: La Grotta!

She pushed past some of the men and into the inn, and placed her hand on Donny's elbow to get his attention. "Donny, I want to go somewhere. I will be back shortly."

"Wait, what? We haven't even set up base yet, and yer already tryin ta leave?" He sounded short of temper; his patience was being tried with not only having to act as leader but also not having killed anything lately. Leola pursed her lips and muttered something in Italian, throwing up her hands. She went back out to the truck and grabbed the rest of the bags, dragging them up the stairs so that they could hurry and she could explore.

As soon as Donny came up and locked the door to the room they were in, the men got quiet and waited for orders. "Aight, youse guys. The lieutenant should be back here soon with our Brit, and then things will get real. From what I've heard, which aint a whole lot, Stiglitz and Wicki will be the ones to help out tonight. Utvich, Omar, youse is stayin with me an' the dame. I say we break for dinner since it's gittin dark, and we can meet back here in an hour. Good?" The men nodded in agreement, and slowly broke away from the group. Omar and Utvich stayed beside Donny, not quite sure of what to do in this new town.

Donny sighed and turned to Leola, and ran his hand through his hair. "Now, what is this you're wantin to do again?"

She smiled and straightened her cap. "There is an Italian cafe here, and they sell products from my hometown. It is operated by friends of my family. I wish to go there and purchase a few goods. You can join me if you wish." She extended the invitation to the other soldiers, and made her way out the door.

Donny glanced over to Utvich and Omar, who shrugged and followed. It sure beat sitting in a barren room for an hour.

They caught up with her and made their way down a relatively clean alleyway til they stopped underneath a door that read 'La Grotta'. Leola knocked on the door loudly until a fat, round man opened the door. She pulled the chain from around her neck and presented the cross to him. They were rushed into a dark room and the door promptly shut.

Donny reached for the knife he had stashed in his coat, but his hand was stayed by one much smaller than his. The lights snapped on with electric fluidity and revealed a cluttered room filled with Italians, men and women alike. Leola swept off her cap and smiled slightly; the room broke into cheers for one of Italy's most beloved daughters.

Leola moved around the room comfortably, picking up packages that interested her as she went, cigarettes here and coffee there. She was nearly bowled over as a small fat man rushed her from the side.

"Fratello!" Leola cried happily, hugging him to her as he cursed her rapidly.

"What are you doing here? Are you hurt? Who are these men? Have you finished? When are you coming home? Your father is worried sick and your sister has become enamored with these dirty Germans and-"

"My sister? Fratello, who is here?" She gripped his shoulders, not knowing whether to smile or frown.

The man sighed heavily. "Abriana is here. She is traipsing after these German men who have been asking your father for assistance and men." Leola pinched the bridge of her nose and settled down into a chair, obviously troubled.

"Where is she now?"

"At a more esteemed hotel in Paris, with them. You would have to travel there to dissuade her."

Leola looked up at Donny. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his smile told her that things would work out. The other men were happily moving around the room, trying desperately to communicate with the foreigners. She looked back to her dear friend and nodded. "It will take some time, but I will try my best to seek her out. I will not let her make the same mistake I did. But," she said with a small grin, "until we leave, let us be happy. I am so hungry, I could eat everything in this room! Please, serve my brothers with the best we have to offer!" The room cheered again and bodies went to work.

Leola leaned back in her chair and breathed deeply, glad to be surrounded with elements of her home. She tried to push her sister from her mind; Abriana had always been frivilous, but she was not stupid. Her thoughts drifted to the warm hand that rested on her knee underneath the table that was being set for a large meal; she was glad to have Donny there. Utvich and Omar smiled at the pretty women bringig them bread and wine, but Donny was smiling for her. A comforting thought.


	8. Chapter 8

"I will be back."

"But we need you! This is a really crucial operation we got goin' on here, and you're desertin' just as you could really come in handy!"

"I am sorry, Donny. But you have my word that I will be back."

Donowitz pushed his hair from his eyes and clenched a handful in his fist, obviously frustrated. They had been going at it in whispers ever since Leola had learned that her sister was in town. This broad thought she could just get up and leave whenever she damn well pleased. He didn't want that to happen, and he certainly didn't want her more than a few feet away from him at a time. This woman who was so different from the girls in America, so ready to die for her family, more obsessed with war and honor than beauty. Leola was certainly one of a kind. The Bear Jew could feel his blood getting hot; she refused to argue with him over her leaving. Imagining her absence was all it took to make him feel out of control. Christ, he really needed to bash someone's head in soon.

The party going on around him did little to distract him, so instead he focused on her face. The darkness that had coated her features was gone; her face shone with happiness and light, the lamps were reflected in her bright hair. She was quiet compared to the others around her, but she still melded easily with the crowd. A flute and a strange looking guitar had been brought out, and Omar and Utvich were dancing with some of the older women; they seemed happy enough just to escape the war for an hour. A grandfather clock in the corner tolled, its voice nearly drowned in the noise of the mass. It was about time to be heading back to the inn; hopefully their commander wouldn't be waiting for them.

"One last song, and I must leave, my friends," Leola declared. So she had been watching the clock as well. Groans riddled the crowd, but the musicians interrupted them with a lively tarantella. A rather drunk Fratello grasped Donny by the wrist and Leola by the hand, pulling them up together and into the circle of dancers.

"Oh, no, no! Fratello, you know I have not danced since I was a stringy girl, do not make me do this, I beg you!" Leola managed to get out between her laughs. The music sped up, and Fratello dipped out to leave the pair in the center.

"Well, when in Italy!" Donny yelled as he grabbed the flustered young woman and spun her around in time with the others. Breaking apart and moving back together, the pair dipped in between the others. Leola quickly adapted and moved naturally to the feisty music, and did her best to keep Donny from tripping over his own feet. They made it back to the center of the group and the music came to a close, both of them red faced and grinning from ear to ear.

The group loaded them down with goods before they left; Leola reveled in the smell of real coffee, tobacco, and even soap! A basket full of food was presented also for the men staying in the inn. Leola kissed each of them good-bye and hugged Fratello for a good long time, whispering all the while.

"I will find Abriana. Do not worry, my friend. Tell my father I am safe." She kissed him on both cheeks, and started towards the door. The young woman smiled as she took a long look at the joyful room she was leaving; the sights and smells of home, the matronly women hugging the necks of these American boys, Donny shaking Fratello's hand and getting pulled in for an unexpected hug and kiss. Donny met her eyes as he gently pushed her outside with his hand on the small of her back. Leola closed her eyes, cemented the memory into her brain, and stepped out into the street.

The lieutenant had not yet made it back to the inn. Leola repacked her cigarette case and made her way downstairs while Donny directed the troops. Wicki and Hugo stuffed themselves with homemade fare as Utivich and Omar related their tale. Donny placed their new possessions with the other equipment in a corner of the room, then followed in her footsteps.

Smoke curled from between her lips as she savored the smooth new tobacco. She was sitting on the stoop outside the inn; all was silent save the gentle hum of traffic on other streets. Donny dropped down beside her and accepted the proffered cigarette, allowing her to light it. It hung from the side of his mouth as he thought. Leola leaned against him gently, every so often pulling the cigarette from her lips as if to speak, but always replacing it.

"I have to stop her. I can not allow he to make the same mistake I did." It was not a question asking for permission. It was a decision made permanent in her mind.

"I ain't gonna stop you. I couldn't even if I tried," Donny said, a tinge of sullenness in his voice.

Leola sighed and leaned against his shoulder; her fine hair was even lighter than usual thanks to the moonlight beaming down on them both. The shine caught the soldier's eye; he brought his hand up and ruffled her locks. "Ya know, my ole man was a barber. Once we get back to America, I'll fix this mop up real pretty for ya."

She chuckled softly. "That would be nice. I will hold you to your word." Leola pulled on her cigarette and turned her face up to the young Jew. He took his own from his lips and twisted his hand in her hair, placed his mouth over hers and stole her breath away, along with the warm smoke. He released her and exhaled, never breaking his gaze.

"Leo?"

"Yes?"

"Be safe."

"Yes, sir!" she promised, with a blush and a smile. Leola pulled her strong bear of a man down for a kiss, her arms wrapped around his neck tightly. Donny's hands started to roam and she fought him fiercely in between kisses.

"I say, I must be in France."

"What inna name a' Sam Hill are y'all doin?"

The lieutenant could barely withhold his pride; his plot to have both these hardheaded fools lighten up had obviously succeeded. The new man behind him smirked; he was dressed in plain clothes with a long, dark coat. Leola snapped back from Donny, but the Jew kept at tight arm around her as he grinned toothily up at his superior.

"We were just practicin'. Ya know, for after we kill all these Kraut fuckers."

"Well, go practice sometime else, Donowitz. We got plannin' to do, tonight. I'd say it's about…9 o'clock right now. It's time ta git started. Now let's git inside afore someone starts stickin' their nose in what ain't their's."

"Lieutenant, I have family business I must handle. I shall be back as quickly as possible." Leola declared as she put on her neat uniform. If she were to get to her sister as quickly as possible, she would need the right disguise. The Brit who had come to be called Lt. Hicox, stared at her.

"She seems to be a bit of an anomaly, don't you think so? Seeing how Italy belongs to the Axis."

She did not even acknowledge him, but anger flashed over her features. "That is no business of mine. I have a mission and I intend to succeed."

"Ya don't seem ta be takin' no fer an answer, Kitty Cat."

"I will not, Lieutenant. It is a family matter." She placed her guns inside of her coat, lined her pockets with ammunition, and fixed her cap firmly upon her head.

"Will you be back?"

"I will be in contact as soon as it is possible for me to do so. I understand that your own rendezvous is occurring this evening?"

Lt. Hicox spoke up. "Ah, yes, well, something of that sort. We are meeting our informant tonight."

"Then I will not be needed, I presume." She patted herself one more time, checking to make sure she had cigarettes and a freshly filled flask.

"Well, sounds like yer mind's made up. Donowitz, will you please escort Miz Kitty to the door?" Raine didn't look particularly happy, but he obliged the sharpshooter this one leave of absence.

"I will borrow a car from the friends from the bar. It will be no trouble finding Paris, I am sure. I will have Fratello drive me. It should not take more than a day, Abriana listens to me."

"What in the heck are you goin' on and on about?" Donny grumbled a bit crossly.

Her eyebrows darted downwards. "I am just trying to relieve you of your obvious worry. I will be safe."

"Yeah, okay."

She frowned. "Good-bye then, Sergeant."

Leola turned on her heel and made her way around the corner and towards the alley. She hadn't made it ten feet before rough hands pushed her against the white washed wall by her shoulders. Firm, warm lips desperately pulled kisses from her as Donny pulled himself as close to her as possible. Leola whimpered, but then retaliated, knotting her fingers in his hair. A large hand snaked down her side and under her thigh, pulling her leg up around his hip. After what seemed like ages, he pulled back to catch his breath.

"Fuck! I, I'm in love with you! What the fuck…" He rested his head in her neck, still panting. Leola stroked his hair and smiled, her own heart nearly climbing out of her chest.

"I love you as well, Donny Donowitz."

He released her from his arms and just stared at this woman who had given him something, something more than beating Nazis to death. She smiled up him, kissed him once more with all the softness of a dandelion, and held his hands in her own.

"Be safe, Donny. You promised me America, and I will make you keep your promises." And she turned and left.


End file.
